Monday, September 26, 2016

Dan Fouts and Philip Rivers, the two most successful and beloved quarterbacks ever to suit up for the San Diego Chargers, are two of my favorite players in the history of the National Football League. Both deservedly enjoy their share of rabidly loyal fans. But it seems only Rivers has more than a few detractors.

These detractors came out of the woodwork on Sunday after the Chargers lost a tough game to the Indianapolis Colts on the road, with many of its offensive stars injured. In the game, Rivers, under constant pressure from rushing Colt defenders, threw a few uncharacteristic floaters that did not find their targets. It happens, well, almost never. But this is all it took for a few football plebes to say that Rivers will never be the quarterback Dan Fouts was.This is curious, because if anyone should have doubters and detractors, it's not Rivers, it's Fouts, who's deservedly in the NFL Hall of Fame but whose gargantuan number of interceptions, low career quarterback rating and sometimes putrid playoff performances should give one pause.

Don't get me wrong. I love Dan Fouts. He's a hell of a competitor and by all accounts a quality person, just as Philip is. Fouts has earned the accolades that have come his way, he was a great player and he's also a tremendous broadcaster.

But the overall quality of his work on the football field while leading the Chargers in the 1970's and 1980's isn't really even close to Philip's. Sometimes myth collides with reality, and the mythology surrounding Dan Fouts and those legendary Charger squads don't completely corroborate with the facts. A great quarterback and leader with some pretty gaudy numbers, Fouts, the leader of the almost mystical "Air Coryell" era for the Bolts under innovative and respected coach Don Coryell, was a hard-ass on the field. He was tough as nails and a great leader of men, and the fans here in San Diego loved him for it and still do.

But Dan was far more erratic and error-prone as a starting quarterback than many want to remember. And while I don't want to take anything away from Fouts' storied reputation as a tough guy, Rivers is every bit as tough, if not tougher. A coach's kid, a good-natured warrior, Rivers never, ever leaves a football game.

Who's Tougher, Who's Smarter?

Before you start in with the Eddie-Shore-old-time-hockey argument that quarterbacks were a helluva lot tougher back in the day because there were fewer rules to protect the quarterback, well, it's a nice try, but it won't fly. When defenders hit you now, it hurts more. Period.

Training methods have improved demonstrably over the decades, and for that reason along with some evolutionary and, um, pharmaceutical reasons, players now are just scary strong and scary fast. Stronger and faster in fact than they were 30 years ago when Dan ruled Jack Murphy Stadium (now Qualcomm Stadium).

Dan was tough. No one's disputing that. But Rivers has played though some ungodly pain, including a severe rib injury he didn't tell anybody about that anyone who has ever had a severe rib injury knows is just about the most painful thing there is.

Then there's the all-important factor: who makes better decisions with those one-to-five seconds after the snap? This one's real easy: Rivers has a much, much higher overall football IQ than Fouts, and is a much more accurate passer and throws profoundly fewer interceptions.

Rivers has better field vision, is better at check downs, and is just a smarter football player who, one day, will make a tremendous coach.

The Super Bowl Argument's a Wash

Of course, neither Fouts not Rivers ever made it to a Super Bowl. But that means next to nothing. Both are Hall-of-Fame level players. If there was any justice in sport, both would be multiple Super Bowl winners. But neither was on a team that put it all together. Why? Simple. It's a team game.

There are plenty of great quarterbacks who never made it to the Super Bowl: Rivers, Fouts, Warren Moon, Bernie Kosar, Sonny Jurgensen, Randall Cunningham, to name a few.

And there are plenty of mediocre-at-best quarterbacks who did play in a Super Bowl: Jeff Hostettler, Rex Grossman, David Woodley, Trent Dilfer, Vince Ferragamo, and that list goes on and on, too. As for the only Chargers QB to actually make it to a Super Bowl, Stan Humphries was a very good player who had an accurate rocket for an arm, a big heart, and an unappreciated sense of when and when not to throw the ball downfield. He was underrated, but just to booster my point, Stan was not in Dan or Philip's league.

Numbers Don't Lie, Cheat or Steal

If you're into stats and numbers, we've got more than you need to made a solid decision here about who is better: Fouts played 15 seasons as the starter for the Chargers and ended up with 43,040 yards passing. Impressive as hell. Rivers has spent three fewer seasons as the starter and has amassed 42,240 yards passing. He will pass Fouts sometime this year and still has several more good years in him. Fouts completed 58 percent of his passes in his career, while Rivers has completed 65 percent of his passes. Fouts had 254 touchdown passes, which is 19th on the all-time list, and has a whopping 242 interceptions, which puts him 12th on the all-time interceptions list, a dubious distinction. Doesn't make me love Fouts any less, but it's a troubling stat. Rivers so far has a whopping 286 touchdown passes, which is 11th all time, just four behind Johnny Unitas, who he will pass in a couple more games. And Rivers has thrown just 135 interceptions - more than 100 fewer than Dan! That stat alone should be all you really need to know, especially considering Dan's coterie of ridiculously good wide receivers.

Wait, there's more. Fouts' career QB rating is a slumpy 80.2. Rivers' career QB rating to date is 95.8, which is the 8th best of all time.

Who's the Better Playoff Quarterback?

Neither Rivers nor Fouts have been world shakers in the playoffs. But Fouts simply did not excel in the postseason, where he threw more interceptions than touchdowns. You can pick several several playoff losses in the Fouts era and point right to him as one of the reasons if not the only reason the Chargers lost. But there is not a single playoff game in the Rivers era that you can point to and say Rivers was the reason the Chargers lost. Not one. In seven playoff games, Fouts is 3-4, with 12 TDs and a whopping 16 interceptions. In nine playoff games, Rivers is 4-5, with 11 TDs and just 9 interceptions.

The Bottom Line

Members of the jury, here's my summation: Dan Fouts is a tremendous football player who absolutely deserves to be in the Hall of fame. But Rivers is even better, for several easy-to-explain reasons. If Dan belongs, simple deductive reason will lead us to conclude that Philip does, too.

For one thing, Dan Fouts was only really great for about five years. Before and after, he was mediocre. On the other hand, Rivers, even in his worst years in the league, has put up Pro Bowl numbers and even when his supporting cast is weak, he still makes very few mistakes.

Rivers has done so much more than Fouts with so much less, especially the years 2012-2013 when Rivers had the absolute worst offensive line in the league and still put up remarkable numbers while literally running for his life from hungry linebackers.

And in 2015, Rivers had an unprecedented, historic number of injuries along the O line and rarely had time to move in the pocket and he still threw for more than 4,000 yards. Now that is impressive. Who handles real adversity better? Need you ask?

Fouts had mostly great blockers during his good years, though Rivers did have some great ones, too, back when Kris Deilman, Marcus McNeil and Nick Hardwick were lining up in front of him.

Needless to say, Fouts had an insane amount of skill-position weapons, including a few Hall-of-Famers and superior wide receivers. Rivers has had a couple future Hall-of-Famers, too, in tight end Antonio Gates and All-Universe running back Ladainian Tomlinson.

But Rivers never, ever had the wide receiving talent that Fouts had. Few if any QBs in NFL history have enjoyed that kind of ball-catching talent that Dan Fouts enjoyed. I mean, Charlie Joiner, John Jefferson and Wes Chandler all caught passes for Dan. Are you kidding me?

Both Fouts and Rivers are great football players. Uniquely gifted. Tough. But anyone who thinks Rivers is not as good (he's actually a little better) just doesn't know very much about football.

By every single tangible measure, and by all the intangible measures, Rivers is the better quarterback. It's close. But it's clear.At the end of the day, and at the end of this column, I defer to legendary San Diego sportswriter Nick Canepa, who knows more about football than I, or you, will ever know. "As much as I admire Fouts, a tremendous competitor and leader, Rivers is the better quarterback, because he's made fewer mistakes," Nick wrote. That's good enough for me.

Sunday, September 25, 2016

Hearing the sad news
today that Arnold Palmer has died, I was immediately taken back to that
poignant Sunday 12 years ago when the iconic American golfer played his final
round at The Masters.

Watching Arnie walk the 18th fairway at Augusta National Golf Club, his favorite golf course, back
in 2004, I was reminded why this man remained arguably the nation’s most beloved
athlete so far past his own athletic prime: He was the definitive American
father figure. The adoring tributes to Arnie that we're already seeing this
evening are appropriate, and moving.

Larger
than life, but with a blue-collar ethic that always made him a favorite of the
man on the street, Palmer, both icon and everyman, possessedthe attributes every kid wishes for in
a father. Charismatic,
eternally youthful, and still competitive into his 80's, Palmer hadthe rare gift of true kindness. He
remained humble and approachable even though he attained great wealth and
living-legend status.

To his credit and my amazement, Palmer never adopted a hint of the elitism
sometimes associated with his sport and with great fame.

Amid the familiar
roar of his adoring seven-deep “Army” of fans, Arnie's final official
round at Augustamore thana decade ago was one of those rare transcendent sports moments that combine history and pathos.

Broadcast live on the USA Network by the CBS broadcasting crew, which to its
credit knew enough to say little, and shown later that evening on every
sportscast in the country, Palmer's last Masters, which rightly eclipsed any
news of the actual tourny contenders that day and even to some degree Phil
Mickelson's eventual epic victory that year, must have generated a variety of
emotions in viewers of all ages.

Arnie's final round
back in 2004 wasn’t just about golf. It was about the bittersweet and
inevitable passage of time. And for me, it was also about fatherhood. IsuspectI wasn’t alone in associating Arnie's
final Masters with my own life, and my owndad.

It was both
compelling and painful to watch Arnie accept his fate and take his
characteristically classy final bow at the tournament he’s loved so much and to
which he’s given so muchfor more
than50 years.

Iremember feeling asurge of emotion as he tapped in his
final putt that afternoon. Not only because he represents a decency and
civility that is fast approaching extinction in our popular culture, but because
Palmer was mydad’s hero, and mydadwas
mine.

As Arnie slowly
walked off the 18th green, I hoped the moment wouldn’t end, just as you wish
your father could live forever.

“It’s not fun to know that it’s over,” Palmer said in an emotional interview
with CBS just after his final round. “But it’s been a great week, and I’m
happy. The fans have been, well, goodness, they have been so
supportive.” After a pause, he added tearfully but with a resolved smile,
“This is difficult for me. I’m a sentimental slob.”

MADE FOR TELEVISION

Arnold Palmer was
one of the first true stars of televised sports. With his perpetual tan,
windswept charm, likability, and remarkable shot-making prowess, he popularized
golf the way no other athlete ever popularized a sport, before or since.

Now known simply as
The King, Arnie, who was dubbed by GQ one of the "25 Coolest Athletes of
All Time," won the Masters four times, the British Open twice, the U.S.
Open once, and 92 championships in all. But his on-course record only begins to
describe what hedidfor golf.

The most popular
player in the game’s history, Palmer was as important a figure in 20th century
sports as Muhammad Ali, Michael Jordan, Wayne Gretzky, Mickey Mantle or Johnny
Unitas. But he never acted like an icon. Somehow, amid the idolatry these last
six decades, he maintained a good nature.

Henever passedan autograph seeker without signing
the autograph and engaging in a conversation and making actual eye contact with
his fans.

“He was a legend who
walked among us,” Gary Player, another golf legend, once said of Palmer.
"He gave of himself. If you give to the fans, they give back. A lot of
athletes are aloof. But Arnold was always aware of the man in the street."

Defying age if only
for fleeting moments, Palmer exhibited a little of the old magic in his final
round at the Masters in 2004. On the infamous par three 12th hole, he knocked
his tee shot within seven feet of the pin.

The gallery loved it, I loved it, and Arnie, as fierce a competitor as there
ever was in any sport, undoubtedly got as much enjoyment out of it, if not
more, than from any of the many ovations he received.

Palmer never lost
that will to win.Virtually untilhis sad death today,Arnie, who in 2012 was named an "honorary starter" at Augusta along with
his close friends and rivals Jack Nicklaus and Gary Player, still feltin his eternally youthful heart that
hecould win a tournament, any
tournament.

Each time he steppedup to the
tee box he stillthoughthe couldhit a better shot than you. But he knewhis body no longer didwhat his brain still beggedit to do. And who can’t relate to
that?

Palmer, whose
Augusta Swan Song was one of those bittersweet, treasured TV moments that make
you reflect on your own life,was a
father figure for us all. But for me, hewas
andiseven more.

Myfather,too, was charismatic and kind and
lived his life with great passion and dignity, and though he loved a lot of
things including his family, music, sports and broadcasting, his greatest
lifelong passion, like Arnie's, was golf.

A television
personality himself for 50 years as well as a longtime newspaper golf
columnist, my dad was a voracious and good golfer (a 3 handicap) who had the
great pleasure of meeting Palmer on several occasions. Arnie never disappointed
my father, who sadly died in 2002, just days after playing 18 holes.

At his service, along with lots of pictures of family and friends, stood one large black-and-white photograph
of my dad and Arnie on the golf course together, smiling.

When asked what his
own late father would say about his remarkable 50-year run at Augusta, Palmer,
who hadtwo daughters and many
grandchildren and whose caddie during his final Master’s appearance was his
16-year-old grandson, answered softly, “I guess he’d say the same thing he said
the first time I won the Masters: 'You did good, boy.'”

Precisely what every
boy wants to hear from his dad, these words are a reminder that every man who
is a father, even the heroes among us, is also someone’s son. Long live The
King.

Monday, September 12, 2016

I've seen enough. It's time for San Diego Chargers head football coach Mike McCoy to hit the road. He's the person most responsible for the team's inexcusable, devastating come-from-ahead loss on Sunday in Kansas City, where the Chiefs climbed out of a deep, 24-3 hole in the second half to humiliate the Bolts in overtime, 33-27.

Hopes were high in this season opener, and the Chargers entered always-raucous Arrowhead Stadium with a boisterous bang. But they left with a wimpy whimper. The Bolts dominated early, taking a 21-3 lead into the locker room at halftime, and still led 27-10 into the fourth quarter.

Then the wheels fell off. The offense got cute and gadgety. No more pounding the ball inside. No more running back Melvin Gordon. The defense went "prevent." No blitzes. No pressure on Chiefs' quarterback Alex Smith. No good.

Yes, McCoy recommitted this team, again, to not losing rather than to winning. He dumped a smokin'-hot dance partner on Sunday for a knock-kneed step sister, and the rest of the party was a bust.

By the end, the offense had lost its way, the defense was consequently cashed, and the Chiefs were the ones doing all the dancing as McCoy just futilely watched, befuddled and detached as always.

Some shortsighted observers put all the blame for this loss on the fact that San Diego's burgeoning superstar wide receiver Keenan Allen left late in the second quarter with what appears to be a season-ending ACL injury. But you can't pin this loss on the injury to one player, as valuable as Allen is.

This game was a 'W' waiting to happen, even without Keenan in the lineup. You have to really go out of your way to lose a game you are leading 24-3 when you have a world-class quarterback such as Philip Rivers, multiple gifted skill-position players on offense, and a very aggressive and motivated defense.

Allen is a key offensive player, a burgeoning star who was dominating before he was injured. But good teams rally when one of their best players go down.

No one on the offensive line or defensive line was hurt. If this were the Broncos or Patriots or Panthers or any other well-coached team, the loss of one player would not have led to a cataclysmic collapse.

But the Chargers are not a winning, well-coached team. And it starts and ends with McCoy, who's no improvement on Norv Turner, the most recent failed Charger skipper.

McCoy is by all accounts a decent man who cares about his players and about his family. But that's not enough.

As a coach, he's a hapless technocrat and deeply flawed communicator who has no clue how to manage in real time. He's not just a failure at clock management, he actually doesn't have the first clue how to roll with punches or keep things moving down the track once the train leaves the station.

It's called thinking on your feet.McCoy is cranky, distant and aloof, and when the going gets tough, he just shakes his head and sticks his nose deeper into his notes rather than rally the troops.

McCoy doesn't seem to possess the ability to keep a football team geeked for four quarters. And that's about 70 percent of head coaching. The players don't dislike him, but he's not the kind of guy for whom you go all out. He is not a born leader. He hasn't lost the locker room completely, but he doesn't inspire. Mike is a career offensive coordinator, at best. He's the football personification of middle management.

The football played this weekend by San Diego's two best-known teams presented a striking contrast. On Saturday night at Qualcomm Stadium, San Diego State University football coach Rocky Long masterfully kept his players focused for a four-plus hour game until the heroic interception on the final play gave the Aztecs a huge win over Cal.

And these kids weren't even getting paid to play!

The following morning, watching McCoy demotivate a team and deconstruct a game in Kansas City that should have been an easy win was maddening and sickening. And he's done it countless times.

Equally annoying is that almost from the get-to, McCoy has been unnecessarily defensive and rude to the San Diego media. Even to the sportswriters who have, or had, his back. Unless you've won multiple Super Bowls, you can't afford to be an ass with the press.

Granted, a lot of the fail last season, when the Bolts went 4-12, was due to injuries. But except for #1 pick Joey Bosa who's nursing a hamstring and still getting into game-day shape, this team on Sunday was healthy.

The players were fired up. The O and D lines were both playing with new confidence, energy and an edge. The Bolts were winning the battle in the trenches, on both sides of the ball, and that almost never happened last year.

But when they got a comfy lead, the Chargers got predictably predictable. Soft. Complacent. Careful. Conservative. Which in football are synonyms for "loser." They played not to lose, rather than to win.

On defense, they morphed into mostly prevent mode and stood on their heels. On offense, they repeatedly ran the same draws to running back Danny Woodhead and took the ball out of Gordon's hands. Woodhead is great, but Gordon, who had two touchdowns in the first half, was having success going right at the center of KC's D line. The Chargers were looking for a moment there like a team that could pound the football.

Interestingly, as San Diego Union-Tribune sports columnist Kevin Acee pointed out Sunday, the Chargers also lost a 21-point third-quarter lead in McCoy's 2013 debut as the team’s head coach. Three years later, things have essentially remained the same since ownership brought McCoy in to take the team in a new direction.

McCoy will evidently never learn that, during a football game, a team that is not only winning but kicking butt needs to "dance with the one that brung you," as legendary Texas football coach Darrell Royal said. It's an old cliche', but it's eternally true.

In other words, if you're having success, keep doing what you're doing. When you're pounding the ball and putting pressure on the opposing QB and you gain a big lead, avoid big mistakes, yes, but don't put the machine in nuetreal when it's firing on all cylinders.

Chargers' defensive coordinator John Pagano and offensive coordinator Ken Whisenhunt are culpable in this mess, too. But the head coach calls the shots. He has veto power.

Let the impeachment proceedings begin. Give McCoy his walking papers. I don't care who you bring in, just please take the damn headset from McCoy. No more losses like this. Please. No more painfully rude, condescending and vague press conferences. Please.

Is Bobby Ross still available? It's both laughable and a crying shame that Bobby, who took a far less talented team than this one to a Super Bowl but was mistreated then resigned nearly 20 years ago, is in fact the last good head coach this football team has had.The Chargers are cursed. And soon, they'll likely be L.A.'s problem.

Jamie Reno

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Jamie Reno, an award-winning correspondent for Newsweek for 20 years, has also written for The New York Times, Rolling Stone, Yahoo News, Yahoo Finance, Healthline, People, Men’s Journal, ESPN, International Business Times, The Daily Beast, Los Angeles Times, TV Guide, Mother Jones, Sports Illustrated, MSNBC, Entertainment Weekly and USA Today. Reno, who’s won more than 150 writing awards, was the lead reporter on a Newsweek series on the 9/11 terrorist attacks that earned him and his colleagues the National Magazine Award for General Excellence, the highest award in magazine journalism. Reno is also an acclaimed author (Hope Begins in the Dark, Snowman on the Pitcher's Mound) singer-songwriter (jamiereno.com), advocate for cancer patients, war veterans and children, and 20-year, three-time cancer survivor. He lives in San Diego with his wife, Gabriela, and their daughter, Mandy.